Together We Can Mend Your Heart
by SoundsLikeHeaven
Summary: Once, Tom Nook had a heart that was whole. When he lost Sable, it tore. Now, he doesn't understand why money isn't a strong enough thread to hold his heart together anymore.
1. Chapter 1

_"Tom? Can I come in? I brought something for you."_

 _She was standing outside the door of my shack, her voice just as small and slightly shy as ever. I remained in my place at my desk with my back facing the direction her words had come from, balling my hands into fists and feeling my claws dig deep into my palms. I stared blankly at the wallpaper in front of me without replying for what seemed to be a hundred heartbeats before I heard the rickety front door slowly creak open anyway._

 _"What do you want." My words were low. Flat._

 _I heard footsteps shuffle for a moment; then, she set something on the counter. The vague, earthy smell of tomatoes and basil trickled through the air. "I... I made you soup. I thought you might be hungry."_

 _Silence. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, still unable to bear the thought of turning around in my seat to face her. How could I? After everything I'd failed at. She would want to know what had gone wrong. Why my time in the city left me this glum, this loathsome, this miserable. She'd wonder why I'd returned to the village after all these years without so much as a forewarning in a letter. And me? How would I even begin to explain? My insides lurched at the very thought of having to share with her the painful mistakes I'd made these past few years in the city. She'd never look at me as the same raccoon again._

 _"Tom, I know living in the city must have been a lot different. A lot tougher," she went on carefully. "But... I know whatever it is, you can talk to me about it."_

 _No. I just couldn't bring myself to do it._

 _"Besides, you're here now. You can start over, in this town." The same voice that had once made me feel so safe, so at home, now felt like nails scraping down a chalkboard in my depressed stupor. "I still believe in you."_

 _For only a brief second, the ice surrounding my heart wavered. Maybe I could tell her? This was Sable, after all. She'd never been judgmental of me. She'd always been my biggest supporter, always there to tell me to follow my dreams even when everyone else scoffed at me. I could spin around in my seat, confess everything to her, and apologize for my sins over and over. She'd be understanding and gentle-far more than what I deserved-and then I would finally admit to her how I've truly felt about her all these years, how in love with her I had fallen, how not a single night went by in the city that I wasn't thinking about her before I fell asleep. We'd cry, then relive old memories and laugh, and then I'd ask her to marry me and we'd live happily ever after. Maybe, just maybe..._

 _"You don't have to have money to make your dreams happen anyway, Tom." She sounded a little brighter this time; sickeningly uplifting in contrast to my agony. "Isn't that what you always told me? 'Dreams before money'!"_

 _At this, I felt the ice gripping my heart squeeze once again. I exploded from my seat in a blind rage and whirled around to face her, my breathing getting heavy. "Really, Sable?!" I snapped, my own blue eyes now level with her widened brown ones. "Is that really what you believe to be true, hm? That was cute when we were little kids, but that's not how the real world works. All that talk of dreaming was just a fantasy. Foolishness. It's time to grow up, yes? In this world, those with money always win in the end. Dreams?" I laughed witheringly. "Dreams are nothing in the face of money!"_

 _In the prolonged gap of silence that followed, I slowly realized that she had shrank away from me in response to my yelling, her expression shocked and frightened. In the corners of her eyes, I thought I saw tears beginning to form, but she turned her back on me before I had a chance to even register the overwhelming amount of hurt on her face. She fled my shop without another word, slamming the door behind her. She was gone._

 _I stood frozen in place. My mind began to reel at what I had just done. I had never raised my voice at Sable like that before in my life. A cold, embarrassed feeling slowly began to gnaw at the pit of my stomach in the place where fiery anger had burned just moments before. I buried my face in my paws and collapsed to the ground and began to weep pathetically._

 _What kind of sick man was I? Sable had never done anything but believe in me and encourage me. I would never forgive myself for talking that way to her. Never._

 _Then, the fiery rage returned. With a loud yell, I stood and took my claws to knock over the pile of Bells on my desk. The gold coins flew across the room, scattering all over the wooden floor-some skittered through the cracks in the panels, and some slid underneath the desk. I dug my claws into the wallpaper and tore at the pattern violently over and over until there was nothing but shreds falling to the ground and my claws began to ooze with droplets of blood._

 _My tears returned, and I sank to the ground again. No amount of unleashing my anger helped me feel any better. All it did was make matters worse. I could only imagine how crazed I looked, destroying everything in the shack. What a joke. No reason no one ever took me seriously._

 _My gaze trailed across the room to a glinting sheet of tin lying on the floor. Nearby, unopened cans of paint sat dusty underneath the shelves. I wondered how long they'd been left there. I started to remember buying them from an old sloth before I had moved to the city, and I had just never used them. Vaguely, I remembered buying them to paint a sign for the shack. I had intended on opening it up as a shop called "Nook's Cranny" before I finally saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to the city and had left town._

 _Nook's Cranny. An amusing and somewhat juvenile play on words, admittedly. And here I was, back in this shack again, back at square one. Pathetic._

 _... But, maybe Sable was right. Maybe I could start over. Maybe I could be a successful businessman, even if I wasn't in the city. I could make a business work here in the village, couldn't I? I mean, I knew better now. I knew now not to trust anyone, and a store here would be small enough for me to manage on my own without me having to hire anyone to help me. All of the money I'd make would belong to me and to me solely._

 _A glow of determination started to shine through the sparse cracks in my cloud of depression. I reached over and took the can of paint in my arms. I would rise from these ashes I'd created for myself even better than before. I'd still show everyone the success that I could be. They'd all see._

 _But Sable. Oh, my dear, dear, Sable. I'd never make it up to her what I'd done. But I'd show her, too. She'd see the businessman that I truly had the potential to be. She'd see that I'm still worth believing in, even if I'd unforgivably lashed out at her._

 _Oh, they'd all see._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

 **Tom Nook, present day**

The old memory slowly fades in and out of my mind during the workday, haunting my thoughts as I restock shelves and help the customers with catalog orders. Animals come in to order wallpaper and carpeting and furniture for their houses all of the time, and I'm happy to oblige. I'm good with math, so I can tally the prices quickly. Of course, all the animals in this village see is a busy raccoon who fulfills their shopping needs, and they just watch on as the numbers rack in my eyes. All they do is hear me announce the prices and my customers walk away after their shopping sprees with some sort of greedily excited, but resentful, look on their faces, as if it's my fault that buying 3 regal sofas and a white katana all at once is expensive. The Bells just keep coming though, and being the only store in town, the same customers who mutter about how money-grubbing I am under their breaths always return the next day to buy more. They don't have much of a choice really, unless they want to buy a bus ticket to shop in the city every day.

Yes, that's all the villagers think of old Tom Nook - the guy who just thinks about money, money, money. The guy who focuses on his recently expanded department store, Nookington's, with its swanky crimson carpeting and platinum raccoon clock ticking on the wall. They don't see the painful memories I live with every day, the thoughts that wander outside of my store. Sometimes, I dare cast my mind a little too deep into the past, and I have to shake myself awake before I hurt myself too much. A lot of my past makes my heart ache, but some memories are just too heart-wrenching for me to bear, even for a brief moment.

Sometimes when I'm alone in my big store and my employees, young Timmy and Tommy, are out on their lunch break at the Roost, I sit at my desk and remember that old shack I started with. Nook's Cranny, with its drafty wooden walls and creaking, dusty floors. I wince when I think about the spiderweb that had been in the upper left corner of the ceiling of that old shack for such a long time. Today, with my department store and fancy business suit and tie, I would never think to leave my store looking so filthy. Back then, I'd been so depressed I just didn't care. Now, I had a little more pride.

But, there were still times when my self-loathing returned. Those times when I dared cast my thoughts to the tailor shop sitting just over the hill outside the window. Sometimes, I could glance over and see Sable out there, hanging up her laundry to dry or standing outside to enjoy the sunshine with her younger sister Mabel. I'd gone so long trying not to think about Sable, but here lately I couldn't shake her image from my mind. Sure, I still talked to her now and then - it was only courteous, being we both run the most popular businesses in the whole village. However, it just wasn't the same as it used to be. My memories are of a different Sable; the Sable I knew on a deeper level, the Sable I called my dear friend and not just a fellow merchant on the street.

I still sometimes think about telling her what city life was truly like for me, and about the mistakes I had made while I lived there. Maybe then she would have a better understanding why I had lashed out at her so many years ago - so unlike me - even though at the end of the day there really was no excuse for it. I had just been so depressed that even her kind words gnashed at my heart. At the time, I hadn't known how else to react. Sometimes, I think maybe I should just ask her to meet me for coffee at the Roost, or invite her to come talk to me after work hours. Maybe we could make amends and become as close as we were before, back when we were growing up together.

When my thoughts reach this point, though, I sigh and give up. There's just no way we could ever be back the way we were before. All Sable sees today is a man whose heart belongs to money, and that's just not the kind of man she can look up to as she once did. I don't embody the same passion of the raccoon she'd befriended long ago, and now all that was left was a shell of my former self. There was no way she could feel the same about me with that element of our relationship missing.

Sometimes, I just wished she'd try. I was the same Tom Nook, after all, just a little more street wise. While money was my biggest concentration these days, I yearned to hear her encouraging words just once more. I sure could use it.

 _"Look, Tom. See the baby? Isn't she sweet?"_

 _My mother's arms kept me warm in the cold early November flurries; she had carried me to the tailor shop over the hill where her best friend Eleanor Able lived with her husband, Reginald. Once we were inside the building, my mother and I kept our coats on, and I squinted my eyes in the light of the store. Nearby, a cradle stood taller than me, but my mom lifted me into her arms once again so I could see into it. I glanced over to the porcupine couple standing proudly in the corner as if for some reassurance, but they just nuzzled cheeks gently, not paying any attention to me._

 _Peering into the cradle, I saw movement in the bundle of pink blankets. A tiny brown porcupine stared back at me, her brown eyes wide. I tried to count the freckles on her cheeks since my mom had been trying to teach me about numbers lately - one, two, three, four..._

 _"She's adorable, Eleanor," my mom declared, her voice tearing me from my sequence. "What are you going to name her, hm?"_

 _"We were thinking we like the name Sable." It was instead Reginald's gruff voice that replied, his words always clipped and cool when it came to my mother. I didn't know why, but even though my mom was great friends with the kind and beautiful Eleanor, I suspected that she and Mr. Able didn't get along as well._

 _My mom didn't say anything back to him. She just reached in her paw to stroke the baby porcupine's quills ever so gently. The baby responded by opening her mouth into a silent O shape. When I saw my mother do this, I decided to try and see what her quills felt like myself. My paws were met with a prickly, stubbly feeling, and the baby did a sharp giggle. I laughed too at the cute, bright smile on her freckled face.  
_

 _"Sable," I pronounced, struggling with each syllable. She kicked her paws ever so slightly, the blankets sliding off of her so I could see the pink gingham onesie she was wearing._

 _The porcupine couple and my mom laughed heartily right along with us. "See?" Mrs. Able said excitedly. "They're already friends."_

 _If someone were to walk by that tailor shop right there and then, they would hear the sounds of joyful giggles and a now cooing baby girl. That November evening is the earliest memory I have in my life, the day I met Sable Able._


End file.
